1
Early evening stars twinkled in the slowly deepening sky directly above the field that had been overrun by Little Leaguers earlier in the day. Their colorful banners were still stretched across the metal fencing that separated the pitch from a cornfield around the outside of the game space. Out toward the direction of Lake Ontario, to the left of the scoreboard, gray clouds boiled, lit up underneath, golden and magical, by the last struggling rays of the sunset. But fuck that, who had time to stare at a pretty sky?
It was now or never, do-or-die time. The summer heat hadn’t faded with the daylight, and I felt like I was swimming in the damp, humid air. In the distance thunder rumbled like an angry lion. Sweat dripped down my back and made my shirt stick to my skin. I pushed the sleeves all the way up to my elbows. Nicky’s face was beaded with glistening drops of moisture, and we were hunched together with our foreheads almost touching and our hands on our knees.
“You’re going to drive the ball between their first and second basewomen. The center fielder drank too much and didn’t come back from taking a piss. Just keep it on the ground, and hope that their right-side outfielder keeps flirting with their left-side outfielder,” I said, low and in a hurry.
Nicky nodded and jutted his plump bottom lip. He was about ten years younger than me, newly twenty-one, and proud to tell anyone and everyone he could now go to the bars legally. His wide brown eyes were serious, and he wrinkled his button nose as he brushed his dreads back over his shoulder.
“Let me get this straight.” With a huff, he tugged at the Mighty Unicorns shirt he wore, our team name emblazoned there with sequined letters. “Your game-winning strategy relies on Rollands out there trying to make it with Epsco?”
We both turned to glance at the outfield where the two women were practically on top of each other. Epsco, or at least that’s what her shirt said across the back, reached out to touch the sleeve of Rollands, who tossed her hair and laughed.
“Yep. We only need one run. You’re going to score it.” Reaching over, I tweaked his nose, and he laughed.
“You know I’m not a fast runner.” Nicky shook his head sadly and some multicolored glitter rained down from his cheeks. He had rainbows streaked under each eye in place of eye black. Our team was in full glory today, since this was a Saturday game, and no one could say we hadn’t come to have a good time. Nicky swayed toward me, and I could smell the tequila on his breath.
“Kick the ball.” I nodded solemnly, and Nicky threw himself at me to give me a hug before he hustled to home plate. The guys beside me on the bench whooped and cheered along with our friends in the small metal bleacher section behind us, but Nicky turned to shush everyone, waving his arms.
“I have to concentrate!”
The women on the other team were not fucking around. This was the high-stakes quiltbag face-off of the New Gothenburg Unofficial Kickball League, and it only happened once a season. The Mighty Unicorns were tied with the Lesbos Dolphins . (When the league formed three years ago, we’d fought viciously over unicorns until the ladies agreed to go with something “more sapphic.”) This was the deciding kick. The kick to end all kicks. And goddamn it, it just had to be Nicky taking it. We were done for.
“Knock those bitches’ lights out, Nicky!” a woman called from the stands behind us, and I realized it was his mom.
Nicky turned to shush her specifically and everyone else quieted down too. There were laughs from the field and good-natured boos from the other stand directly next to ours, but any rivalry was mitigated by the fact that people from both teams were sharing beers out of the coolers parked on the grass between them. The outfield lights came up suddenly as the sun continued to sink lower. Another peal of thunder cracked too close for my comfort, but I shivered and stayed standing there, hands resting on my knees. The woman on the pitcher’s mound wound up and let the big red bouncy ball fly.
Nicky kicked. For a few seconds my heart nearly beat out of my chest as the ball popped up. No, no, no!
“Just run!” I yelled at him. The rest of the team was saying the same thing. Nicky swayed on the spot. He really couldn’t hold his margaritas.
“Go, go,” Wayne yelled. He had a deep tan and silver muttonchops. The oldest man on the team at about fifty, he was also ripped, and had his shirt off and tucked into the back pocket of his rainbow shorts. He’d taken the time to oil his chest at some point earlier and his abs glistened. I got caught out staring for a few seconds longer than I should have.
Nicky stood still, eyes trained on the ball in the sky.
“Run.” I groaned.
The ball hit the ground and bounced with a loud thwang . Nicky sighed and took off at a light lope toward first. The women on the other team rushed for the ball. Epsco threw it, and a loud toink announced Nicky’s out as the ball beaned him on the shoulder and then wildly bounced away. He was out before he ever set foot on a plate. There were catcalls and whoops and laughs, and Nicky sort of drooped in place, a tremulous pout on his lips, before he was surrounded by the girls on the other team. They gave him hugs until he was grinning again. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he headed back to me, and I shook my head.
“The ground, Nicky. The ground. Not the air.”
“Sorry, Bradlicious. That ball had wings.”
“Ugh.” I scratched at an itchy spot on my cheek and my finger came away coated in glitter. Hell, I’d forgotten about the glitter rainbows I’d let him put on me too.
Nicky laughed and sauntered over to the bench, his hands held out as he made his way down the line. The guys all gave him hell along with their high-fives. I already knew what was coming next and tried to find a good place to hide, but Lincoln Field was a wide-open space. Evan and Madden hoisted a huge realistic unicorn head from the bench between them and started chasing Nicky with it. They were a couple and had joined the team together this spring, and I really liked them. Nicky ran away, of course, since he finally had some motivation. The small crowd behind us began to stand and stretch, but no one was in a huge hurry to leave, even with the storm rolling in. Why would they be? There was team-sponsored beer to be had.
Nicky raced by and I heard feet pound the ground behind me, and then all at once the lights went out. Stale plastic, the well-known stench of the unicorn head, had me groaning, but I spun the unwieldy mask around until I could see out of the open mouth and stood there, enduring the laughter. I stumbled forward with it still on toward the closest beer cooler and sighed to myself.
My ex Enrique stood near a cooler covered in unicorn stickers sucking face with MacBain, a dude who played for the Surfballers and who could probably give a T. rex a run for his money in a physical fight. I patted my flat stomach. I wasn’t bad-looking, but MacBain seemed like he spent about seventy more hours a week in the gym than I did. I took the unicorn head off and tucked it under my arm. Nicky came to stand near me and leaned his elbow on my shoulder. “That’s rough, buddy.”
“No, it’s fine. I hope they’re happy together.”
Nicky narrowed his eyes in my direction, all the glitter on his face catching in the lights and making me squint too. “No one is that chill about their ex and his new fun ride.”
Shrugging, I turned my back toward them, forcing Nicky to drop his arm. “I wish Enrique well. We didn’t fit. That’s just life.”
Nicky smacked my chest hard enough to sting. “You’re not the slightest bit mad that MacMuscles over there swooped in?”
